The deep silence of the night was like a heavy shroud, pressing down on the city.
It was 2:37 AM.
At this hour, the world seemed to have slipped into a different dimension, one where the only thing that existed was the suffocating, pitch-black stillness.
Inside the rattling carriage of the bus, Young man sat alone. He was the only passenger, a solitary figure amidst rows of empty, shadowed seats. The rhythmic humming of the engine was the only thread connecting him to reality.
Suddenly, a piercing screech tore through the air.
The bus groaned as it was forced to a halt. The sound of the brakes was like a metallic scream, echoing violently against the backdrop of the deserted station.
The young man felt his heart lurch; he couldn't help but flinch, his shoulders tensing under his suit.
With a long, rhythmic hiss, the folding doors opened. A puff of cold, biting air rushed in, carrying the scent of damp earth and rain.
He rose and stepped out onto the wet pavement. The streetlights above flickered with an unsteady, yellowish glow.
His first instinct was to reach up. His fingers moved with practiced familiarity, finding the knot of his tie and tightening it.
It was a deep-rooted habit he performed whenever he needed to regain his composure.
The plain black suit he wore felt like a second skin, but it was far from comfortable. It was a bit too tight, restricting his movements in a way that felt unnatural. It certainly wasn't his usual choice of attire.
Behind him, the engine of the bus roared one last time, sending a deep, bone-rattling vibration through his chest.
He stood perfectly still, his gaze fixed on the vehicle as it pulled away. He watched the red tail lights grow smaller and smaller until they were finally swallowed by the hungry shadows of the road.
Now, he was truly alone.
Under the pale, indifferent glow of the moon, Caesar tilted his head back. For a fleeting second, a strange impulse seized him. He felt like a lone wolf, standing in a concrete wilderness, tempted to let out a long, mournful howl.
However, logic quickly reasserted itself. He suppressed the thought with a self-deprecating curl of his lip.
"That would be too childish... and in a city that prides itself on rationality, people would surely think I've gone mad." he mocked himself inwardly.
He closed his eyes, allowing the silence to settle over him again.
He took a slow, deep breath. The air was thin, carrying the faint, metallic tang that always preceded a heavy rain.
With a weary sigh, Caesar reached into his right pocket.
His fingers brushed against a small, cold object. He grasped it firmly and pulled it into the dim light.
Resting in his palm was a small, black chess pawn. To any ordinary observer, it was just a cheap plastic piece from a common chess set.
But He knew the truth. He could feel the weight of the history behind it.
This simple object was the very reason his father's life had been extinguished.
It didn't possess a physical edge or a leaden weight, but it carried a mystical danger. Just by possessing this item, a person unknowingly stepped out of the light and into the crosshairs of hidden organizations and ancient entities that lurked in the unseen corners of the world.
"Haaaa..."
He let out another long, shaky breath and returned the pawn to its dark hiding place in his pocket.
Then, he began to walk. He turned toward the right side of the station, his leather shoes hitting the ground with a rhythmic, lonely thud. The distant, muffled hum of the city was his only companion in the dead of night.
"By the way, my name is Caesar. Yeah, yeah I am aware it is the name of an ancient king. But honestly, that isn't my fault. You would have to ask my late father about that choice." he thought, his mental voice echoing as if he were introducing himself to the empty air.
After several minutes of navigating the winding streets, he arrived at the entrance of his modest apartment building.
He climbed the stairs with the slow, mechanical movements of a man burdened by exhaustion. However, as he reached his floor, his footsteps faltered. His body froze. His pupils slightly dilated as he stared ahead.
The door to his apartment was wide open. It swung slightly in the draft, a dark maw in the hallway.
His heart skipped a beat, then began to hammer against his ribs. He was certain....absolutely.... certain....that he had turned the key in the lock before leaving earlier.
Someone broke in.
The fine hairs on his arms stood up. He wasn't worried about his television, his money, or his mundane belongings.
There was something far more precious, something irreplaceable, hidden within those walls.
He didn't wait. He rushed inside, his eyes darting across the scene of destruction. He ignored the glint of shattered glass on the floor and the sight of his overturned furniture. He moved with a singular purpose, heading straight for his bedroom.
Stopping before the wall opposite his bed, he stood perfectly still. He stared at the surface intensely, his eyes scanning the plaster as if trying to count every microscopic crack and imperfection.
"Sigh..."
A long, jagged breath of relief escaped his lungs. The hidden marks were undisturbed. Only now, with his primary fear quelled, did his attention shift to the surrounding mess.
"Damn it," he cursed in a low, gravelly voice.
The room was a disaster. Drawers had been ripped out, and books lay scattered like fallen soldiers. It looked as if a fierce struggle....or....a desperate search....had taken place in the very center of his home.
After examining the perimeter of the room, Caesar turned back toward the wall. He stood before it for a moment, his expression unreadable in the dark.
He reached down, his fingers finding a specific, hidden spot at the bottom corner of the wall. He applied a precise amount of pressure.
Crk!
A sharp, wooden creak echoed through the quiet room.
The wall seemed to tear apart, the reality of the structure shifting and folding in on itself to reveal a dark, yawning passage. Even after witnessing this transformation many times, the sight still held a hint of ancient wonder for him.
He began his descent. His feet found the dark, cold stairs that led down into the basement. As he moved deeper, the air grew warmer, smelling of old paper and ozone.
The flickering firelight of unseen torches danced on the stone walls, giving the hidden chamber a strange, medieval atmosphere that felt disconnected from the modern city above.
The room was perfectly circular, its walls lined with various old artifacts, dusty scrolls, and mysterious paintings that seemed to watch his every move.
But Caesar's eyes were fixed solely on the center of the room.
There stood a large, heavy table crafted from dark wood. Resting upon it was a magnificent chessboard. It was crowded with intricately carved pieces, but the black side was missing half of its army.
Caesar walked forward, his footsteps silent on the stone. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the black pawn, and with a steady hand, set it down in its rightful position.
The moment the base of the piece touched the wood, the chessboard ignited.
A surge of brilliant, searing yellow energy erupted from the board. It flooded the room in an instant, bathing the artifacts, the paintings, and Caesar himself in a blinding golden glow.
"It never ceases to amuse me," Caesar muttered. A small, rare smirk played on his lips as the energy hummed in the air around him.
He imagined the countless questions an outsider would have. What is this place? What is this energy? He was just about to begin the internal process of explaining the truth to himself when—
BOOM!
A massive crash from the floor above shattered the mystical silence. The ceiling groaned under the weight of the impact.
Caesar didn't hesitate. He scrambled back up the stairs, his heart thumping like a drum against his ribs. He slammed the hidden path shut and engaged the lock just as his back hit the bedroom door.
Heavy footsteps began to echo through the hallway outside. He could hear the violent sound of trash and furniture being kicked aside with reckless abandon.
"Damn it, where is that bastard?" a man's voice roared, dripping with aggression.
"I think he'll be back in the morning, Boss," another voice answered, sounding slightly more cautious.
Caesar recognized the first voice instantly. It belonged to the leader of a local gang—a group of thugs he had recently crossed paths with during a "misunderstanding."
He took a slow, deep breath, forcing the adrenaline to cool. He wiped the smirk from his face, replacing it with a mask of cold, detached composure.
He pushed open the bedroom door and stepped out into the ruined living room.
"Is this how you greet people?" Caesar asked, his voice flat and devoid of warmth.
He looked down at a small, ceramic cup lying on the floor and gave it a light kick. It skidded across the hardwood, clicking against the boots of the intruders.
The two men spun around, startled. Caesar stepped fully out of the shadows, allowing the flickering, dying light of a broken lamp to illuminate the sharp, cold angles of his face.
"You bastard! You finally showed up!" the broad-shouldered leader roared, his face twisting into a mask of pure rage.
"Barging into a man's house and smashing his things... Do you truly think that's cool?" Caesar's tone remained dangerously level.
"What?" The two men looked at each other, their anger suddenly replaced by a look of genuine, unfiltered confusion.
"What?" Caesar repeated. A flicker of his own confusion begin to flare. He noticed they weren't looking at him with the smugness of people who had just finished a job.
For a long moment, the three of them stared at each other in a heavy, awkward silence. Finally, the man with the mohawk raised a shaking hand and pointed at the wreckage surrounding them.
"We didn't touch your stuff," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "For your information, we just got here. And the door... the door was already wide open."
The air in the room suddenly felt much colder, as if a window to the void had been opened.
Caesar's expression froze. A sudden, chilling realization dawned on him. His eyes swept over the broken furniture and the scattered books. If it wasn't the gang...
"What?" Caesar whispered, his voice barely audible. "Then... who the hell broke into my house?"
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Hello guys, Ashburn here.
I'm just a new, aspiring author trying to bring my imagination to life.
Hope you enjoy the story and support me.
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Thanks for reading! ☺️☺️.